


family reunion (don't make no trash)

by zari_writes



Series: i didn't know i was lonely (i wanna get better) [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, and i wanted it to happen, i needed a scene like this, it's parents weekend, look at this beautiful hot mess right here, not even sorry, parents in general, so it did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-12 04:45:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3344090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zari_writes/pseuds/zari_writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling asleep, waking up, parents' weekend, photographs, and something unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. vii.interlude: the district sleeps (granmon)

Jack remembers Bitty’s mother vaguely. Same face shape and accent. Same caretaker instincts. Same love for baking. She still sends care packages that now seem to feature something for Jack as well as Bitty. All in all, Jack thinks of Mama Bittle as nothing but the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar and the smile lines a well-seasoned mother gets. Bitty’s father, however, is more of an ‘enigma’: not exactly mysterious but not much is known about him to make a very good assessment of character. According to Bitty, he’s a tough football coach who didn’t really take an interest in his son’s figure skating. One thing’s for certain though: Bitty’s more than a little nervous to talk to his father.

“I mean, I know my mama wouldn’t bring him without tryin’a say somethin’ to him about... _me_ first,” Bitty tries to explain one night (early morning?) while in Jack’s room. “Apparently she’s done extensive readin’. Even bought those dumb parentin’ books you see all over Barnes and Noble.” Jack can make out the outline of Eric’s face in the soft moonlight streaming from the windows. They’re sitting on Jack’s bed, back’s against the wall, shoulders touching.

“What do you think’ll happen, Jack?” The question is a whisper and that whisper seems to make the world seem a lot bigger and the room a lot emptier. Jack lets his shoulders rise and fall in a small shrug that broadcasts his overall sleepiness.

“I dunno. What do you _want_ happen, Eric?” The name slips through his teeth from his tongue before Jack's brain has time to catch up but Bitty says nothing about it, as per usual. Jack had been letting the name slip, now and then, on accident. Usually when he was alone with Bitty (like studying or a morning skate) or it was late at night or early "morning" (one of them would have fallen asleep in Jack’s room and so they would wake each other up) or both (like now). Bitty’s still looking forward, his face silhouetted against the black of the room and faint glow of the moon only this time, Jack can make out Bitty gnawing on his lip.

“I’m not really sure,” Bitty replies, words quiet and unsure. They sit in silence for a while before Jack gains the nerve to speak up.

“If you really are this worried then maybe you want him to accept you. I mean, he won’t ever understand you completely but he can still love you. He’s your dad, Eric. How could he not love you.” Jack chokes on the last sentence but not because he was crying or confused or even a little bit surprised. It’s because the statement is blatant honesty. The kind of honesty that hides until it is three in the morning on a weekday and the person you might be _in love with is sitting there, head on your shoulder, looking vulnerable and in need of a hug_. Jack swallows and remains silent, just listening to their combined breathing and forcing his arms to remain where they are by his sides.

Somewhere between feeling drowsy and falling asleep, Eric’s breathing slows and soon, the blond is fast asleep, his head now pillowed on Jack’s chest. As the captain’s body starts to sag a bit to the side, body heavy with sleep, he finds himself not really minding.


	2. viii. don't wake me up (before you go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six: He is surprisingly okay with being held by his team captain. Wait--nope. Nada. Still completely okay.

When they wake up, Bitty realizes two things simultaneously.

One: He is very, very warm.

Two: Where is Señor Bunny?

Blinking slowly, Bitty moves to rub the sleep out of his eyes so he can take a look around when he realizes that he can’t because he is _not alone in the bed._ Bitty nearly starts with a jolt before remembering his manners (at a time like this, yes, _manners are important his mama didn’t raise him in a barn dammit_ ) and laying almost completely still. As he starts to recall the events from last night, he begins to realize several things.

One: He is most definitely not in his room.

Two: This is most likely Jack’s room.

Three: He is still very, very warm.

Four: He is not alone.

Five: The person he is “not alone” with is most likely Jack.

Six: He is surprisingly okay with being held by his team captain. Wait--nope. Nada. Still completely okay.

Bitty considers getting up but then the grip around him tightens ever so slightly and Jack mumbles something French, his words mouthed into Bitty’s hair. Heaving a sigh (as if it were a sacrifice and not a great pleasure [ _appropriate thoughts, Eric Richard Bittle, you are a southern gentleman_ ]), Bitty settles back in and closes his eyes, completely content on where he was.

**~  
\www/**

Jack’s door bursts open after thirty minutes of blissful napping with a (thankfully) clothed Shitty with Lardo hot on his heels. The sound has Bitty and Jack up in a flash. If “up in a flash” means “in a heap on the floor arguing about how to get up and whose fault it was they ended up in this mess”, that is. Somehow, Shitty bypasses the “Bitty and Jack in the same room sleeping” thing entirely which means this news is either severely important or completely irrelevant.

“Bits, your parents are here.” Okay, that _is_ important. Bitty jumps up, somehow springy after five seconds of consciousness without a single sign of grogginess. Jack is still trying to gather his bearings as he rises up off of his room’s floor.

“What do you mean, ‘here’? Do you mean here at the Haus or here as in just Samwell here?” Bitty questions as he rushes across the hall to try and fix his appearance into a semblance of being neat and not as if he had just spent the night sleeping in his crus--frie-- _captain’s_ room. Behind him, Lardo and Shitty hold a quick and silent eyebrow meeting. Shitty goes to follow Bitty while Lardo hangs back to talk to Jack for a bit.

“Here as in, in the Haus. But don’t worry, the frogs are stallin’ ‘em,” Shitty tells Bitty as he follows him into his room, tossing a plaid shirt from on top of Bitty’s bed at him as the blond finished donning a black tee. Bitty puts his arms through the sleeves and works to find a pair of jeans in his closet.

“What were you doing in Jack’s room?” The ‘last night’ was implied but Bitty decides to bite the bullet as he pulls a pair of skinny jeans off of a hanger.

“I was talking to him earlier...later? Anyhow, I was talking to him and I guess it got really late and I fell asleep. End of story,” Bitty tells the senior who has now taken a seat at Bitty’s desk. Stripping to his underwear, Bitty begins to pull on his jeans with as much grace as a baby giraffe as Shitty continues to ask questions.

“Why didn’t Jack just wake you up and get you to go back to your room? No offense but Jack seems like the kinda guy to do shit like that.” Bitty doesn’t freeze but he does stall in his motions for a second. There it is. The implication that there has been a shift in this--”bond” he and Jack have.

“I don’t know Shitty,” Bitty tells the senior, as he buttons his pants. “And I _really_ don’t want to think about it right now. _Please_.” Bitty isn’t trying to be hardheaded about it or rude but...it’s too early to have a crisis. That, along with the fact that his _parents_ are here are enough to cause him enough crises for a month, let alone for a day. Shitty holds up two placating hands and follows Bitty out of his room.

“Okay. But y’know if you ever need someone to talk to,” Shitty smiles and Bitty gives him a smile back.

“Don’t worry, I will.” Bitty tells him and then turns to the staircase and takes a deep breath. Might as well get it over with.

**_/-\\_**

Lardo shuts the door to Jack’s room and turns to face the captain, who's still rubbing some sleep out of his eyes.

“So what were you two doing in here?” The question appears short and to the point when in actuality, it’s dancing around the real issue that Lardo wants to address.

“Sleeping. Talking. He fell asleep and then so did I. _Nothing_ happened.” There’s a bit more force in his words than really needed but Lardo doesn’t flinch. She just hardens her analytical gaze she had perfected whenever it was necessary that she had to get between arguing players or teams. Her tougher resilience is what got her the position as team manager in the first place.

“I could tell. What happened?” Lardo persists as Jack sits down onto his bed and the team manager takes a seat at the desk. Jack sighs, leaning forwards to but his face in his hands.

“I guess Er-Bitty fell asleep. I drifted off right after him,” Jack replies, still a bit fuzzy on the details. He remembers talking. A lot of it. Saying something about Bitty and his dad and then...sleep? Something warm on his chest, the feeling of comfort that usually comes with the memory of home but this feeling was a lot more unfamiliar. Something unrefined yet perfect all the same.

“Okay. So why didn’t you wake him up before you fell asleep? Don’t you usually do that?” Jack looks up from his hands, risking a glance of Lardo’s intense stare. The captain doesn’t bother to question how the team manager knows all this. Just chalks it up to things either Shitty tells her or that she’s actually omnipotent.

“I don’t know.” The words are blunt and straight to the point. It’s an honest statement; Jack really isn’t sure as to _why_ he hadn’t woken Eric up and put him back in his room like he usually did. The room was directly across the hall from his so why the fuck _didn’t_ he. Lardo can see the confusion on Jack’s face but doesn’t back off with the stare for a second. If anything, she manages to mix concern along with a gleam in her eye that says she knows something that he should know but she sure as hell wasn’t going to say shit.

“I honestly don’t know, Lardo,” Jack tells her and Lardo shrugs.

“Yeah, you do. You just don’t realize it yet,” she declares, hopping up from the chair and standing. “But it’s too early for this kind of discussion. Let’s go have breakfast before Bitty’s mom eats those poor frogs alive.” Jack just nods and moves to find a spare pair of pants.

“Also,” Jack slightly turned towards Lardo, still looking for his pants, “if you ever need someone to talk to, there’s a reason _why_ I’m team manager. Gotta keep you guys in check.” Jack gives her one of his not-so-elusive-anymore smiles.

“I know. I will.”


	3. ix. everything is alright (unconditionally)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all statistics and reactions of parents are fictional and completely pulled right out of my ass. so have fun.

" _Dicky_!" Bitty's mom cooes when she sees her son first enter the kitchen, sweeping him up in a tight embrace that would ordinarily leave Bitty a bit embarrassed and claustrophobic but instead feels a _lot_ better. The blond chalks it up to the fact that moms are magic and quickly hugs her back tightly. When they let go of each other, Mama Bittle gives her son the brightest smile she can manage and tugs him towards the little kitchen island where Dex of all people is occupying his dad with some talk about football. When Bitty’s dad looks up, both father and son seem to freeze. Shoulders tense and back straighten and there is no air of familiarity between these two.

“Eric.” The man grunts and Bitty tries not to chew his lip.

“Coach. Hello.” The kitchen isn’t completely quiet. Not yet anyway. So Bitty thanks pie, Delia Smith, and Beyonce when Lardo and Jack come down the stairs so that maybe a distraction would help the awkward tension dissipate.

“Hi, Mrs. Bittle. Mr. Bittle,” Jack greets, ever the polite team captain. Mama Bittle instantly wanders over to coo at the hockey player, asking the normal set of questions that would come up if she saw him on skype, or when Bitty would mention him on a phone call. _Which is becoming an increasing occurrence_ , Mama Bittle would note, as she ushers the two team members over to the kitchen island to eat and talk for a while. Both Bittles breathe a sigh of relief; no awkward confrontation for now.

During breakfast, it’s all light, meaningless conversation. How the hockey season was going (not too bad; they were 3 and 2), how classes were (nothing they couldn’t handle but Ransom has the occasional breakdown from time to time), and how the freshmen were feeling about Samwell (“‘Swawesome!” “Not bad.” “S’chill.”). When breakfast is over, the rest of the day is Bitty and Jack showing Bitty’s parents around campus, because Mr. Bittle hadn’t been there before.

It was also filled with Bitty almost chewing a hole through his lip if it weren’t for Jack stopping him. At every turn, it wasn’t that he was terrified of being embarrassing or running into people he knew. No; the blond was afraid that those stupid tabloids were somehow still around even after Lardo and Shitty had enlisted the frogs to canvas the entire campus to make sure that no copies had been left and all the newsstands knew that distributing them would end in mysterious graffiti and frat boys stealing the carts for dumb initiation. Bitty breathes a sigh of relief when they reach the rink, somehow relieved by the sight of the familiar stadium.

“This is Faber,” Jack sates, holding the door open for the Bittles. “We usually have morning practice but we got up late today so…” Jack just trails off as Mama Bittle turns to her son, phone whipped out to take a picture.

“Morning practice? On a Saturday? Since when, Eric?” Mrs. Bittle looks a bit too worried about the practice thing and Mr. Bittle just looks flat out confused because he’s a coach and to him practice is good? More practice is better? But too much practice is very, _very_ bad.

So he can _kind of_ see why his wife is worrying but still remains confused as Eric waves his hands around, explaining that the extra practices are simply to help him get used to checking and they are really helping him out and that there is _nothing to worry because Jack is really helping me a lot._ Eric and that Zimmermann kid aren’t looking each other in the eye but not in the ‘I’m uncomfortable around  you’ kind of way but in the ‘I’m really grateful but it’s embarrassing for both of us when I say it so I’m just going to stop saying it directly to you but I will tell other people’.

“Suzanne? Jack?” A new voice calls out and Mrs. Bittle is soon waving over a familiar former hockey player along with a woman who has Jack’s cheekbones and light brown hair.

“Suzanne, how good to see you. This is my wife Alicia. And this must be your husband Samuel,” Mr. Zimmermann shakes hands with Mr. Bittle, a charming smile on his face.

“You are the woman responsible for my Bob’s recent obsession with baking,” Alicia teases and Suzanne turns a light shade of red and Mr. Bittle laughs.

“That’s my Suzy,” he says warmly and Suzanne blushes an even darker red and both Bitty and Jack suppress the groan that’s building up in their chest that can be described by many a child as “parent embarrassment”.

“Are you showing Mr. Bittle around Faber?” Mr. Zimmermann asks his son and Bittle.

“I wanted to get some pictures of them at the rink. Last time, I only got Dicky in the pictures and I was hoping to get Sam in some of them this time,” Suzanne states fondly. Alicia’s face brightens as she claps her gloved hands together.

“How perfect! I wanted to get some shots of Jack and his father here at the rink as well!” Both moms wield digital cameras and matching smiles while all the men internally wince, knowing that one mother with a camera was enough for an hour of work but _two_? One word: _armageddon_. Whilst the two women discuss their ideas for family pictures and various angles, Coach pulls Eric to the side, a look in his eyes.

“Can I talk to you outside for a bit, Eric?” Ice begins to grow at the base of Eric’s spine and a something cold takes over his chest cavity.

“Of course, Coach,” Eric tells his dad while shoving his hands into his pants’ pockets. A hand grasps Eric’s forearm and he turns to see Jack, a worried expression on his face. _Are you okay, will it be alright, do I need to say something, will you be okay?_ Eric gives his team captain a small smile and gently moves his arm from out of Jack’s grip.

“I’ll just be a moment,” Eric tells him and then hurries outside to where his father is waiting.

“So...what did you want to talk about?” Mr.Bittle coughs a bit, clearing his throat as if to stall. Eric swallows down a lump of anxiety and inhales.

“I know that you told me something _important_ right before school started and I really didn’t know how to answer you.” His words are clear and hit Eric in the chest with a strike of lightning that nearly stops his heart.

“Coach, you don’t really have to--” Mr. Bittle holds up a placating hand and takes a deep breath and meets his son’s eyes.

“Yes, I really do.” He tells his son steadily, lowering his hand, and then takes another breath. “What you told me months ago was-- _is_ very important to you. At first I was...I was angry.” Eric tries to swallow again but finds that his mouth has run dry and his throat has no desire of cooperating and yet, something similar to a stone drops to the bottom of his stomach and a chill fill his body.

“When I talked to your mother about what you had said and how I felt she, ah, wasn’t exactly _happy_ with what I had to say.” Mr. Bittle looks sheepish but continues to look his son in the eye. “The way she explained it was that bein’... _gay" --_ the word isn’t said with open disdain or malice, but there is a feeling that the word doesn’t really fit in with Mr. Bittle’s regular vocabulary--“isn’t a choice. And that it wouldn’t- _didn’t_ change who you are.”

Eric feels something hot behind his eyes and his heart is pounding hard. He can feel some kind of heat blooming in his chest but he tries to tamp it down, because he just _knows_ that happy endings don’t exist for people like him. That there’s always a ‘ _but--_ ’ added into anything _this_ good. Eric steels himself as his father opens his mouth to speak again.

“But I am still angry.” _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck_. Eric is so prepared for to make a break for it, so ready for the fallout that he had been preparing for since the day he first realize he didn’t like girl.

(There was a kid at his high school who came out to their parents in his Junior year, just as he was really coming to grips withwho he was. Eric can't remember what about or who said it but he remembers what happened. He remembers how that kid would come into school with black eyes and bruises that seemed to mottle their skin like a collage of cruelty, their skin a canvas of everything that Eric was afraid of painted on with the fists if people he considered friends. But most of all, he could remember the look in the eyes of that kid's parents. How they seemed to not really hate their child or even be mildly angry with them but there was a type of...resignation there. Like they were looking at a picture of something dead and gone.

And Eric is _terrified_.)

“I am angry that I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about any of it. And I’m sorry.”

The breath flies out of Eric in a gust and something keeps his lungs from constricting and his face is wet.

“I would never hate you for who you are or who you might become. You’re my son, Eric, and I--I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren’t.” Eric’s jaw is locked tight, bulging with words that he doesn’t know how to say because he doesn’t _hate me he doesn’t hate me he doesn’t_ hate _me he still_ loves  _me_. The younger Bittle is pulled into an awkward hug by his father, who pats his son’s back tentatively. Eric wraps his arms around his father and lives in that one moment and smiles to himself.

When the awkward albeit comforting embrace ends, Mr. Bittle’s eyes dart from the doors to Faber and then back to his son and takes a deep breath.

“Is there anyone in your life right now, Eric? Anyone your mother and I should know about?” Eric turns beet red and can only shake his head from side to side, keeping his mouth shut from making the obscene noise that is trying to make its way out of his throat. The elder Bittle’s eyebrow rises and jerks a head back at Faber.

“So you and that Zimmermann kid aren’t--” Eric holds up both his hands, waving them a bit and shaking his head.

“No. No, no, no, no, _no_ , we aren’t Coach. He’s just a good friend. A really good friend. And I don't think he's very interested,” Eric can't bring himself to say 'straight'; some inane part of him still wants him to be something else. That answer seems to abate the Coach’s curiosity and he relaxes.

“Just make sure to tell your mother if there ever is someone. She’ll want him over for dinner and everythin’,” the coach jokes and Eric lets loose a nervous laugh and some of the tension seems to have thinned to almost nothing. Something warm is nestled in the pit of Eric’s stomach as they both venture back into Faber. Before anyone can even ask, they’re both cajoled by twittering voices and flashing cameras into positions for several different photographs. Jack’s concerned look quickly vanishes when he sees Bitty flash a small smile that has his heart missing beats in seconds.

It’s all okay.

**~**

(When their mothers push them together, cameras timed so that they can all be in the picture, Eric grabs Jack’s hand behind everyone else and squeezes. Jack’s heart continues to stutter and the warmth in Eric’s stomach spreads.

 _It’s all okay._ )

**Author's Note:**

> harrass me [here](http://www.starryzari.tumblr.com).  
> also, i was unaware that zimmermann was spelled with two 'N's and not one. so i freaked out for a good couple of minutes and laughed my ass off. so yeah. sorry about that guys. i'm kind of a moron.  
> also, these updates are kinda short (not just kinda but _really_ short) because how they're written. the narrative is somewhat choppy and likes to jump in a sense so whenever I write, it kinda just happens in bunches. sometimes you'll get a huge hunk and other times you'll get a nibble. i promise i will try to do this little nibbles in huge handfuls so that there's at least _some_ substance to what i'm giving y'all. but thanks for reading loves! :)  
>  (ps guys this is a fic part of a series. it is _not_ a standalone. the first story in the series, maybe, but not so much the rest of them. find the series [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/187523). thanks)


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